


Last Chance

by Djtmusings



Category: InCryptid - Seanan McGuire, Sparrow Hill Road - Seanan McGuire, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, SPN Cannon possible, gender questioning, ghost death, ghost story, reference to transphobia, road ghosts, some gruesome imagery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-04
Updated: 2017-08-04
Packaged: 2018-12-10 17:50:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11696778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djtmusings/pseuds/Djtmusings
Summary: What if humans weren't the only supernatural 'hunters'? What if the SPN universe has other resources for dealing with out of control ghosts - a complex system that interacts with demons and reapers to harvest lost souls. I mean, not all ghosts are crazy, right? At least, not right away? And not everything can orshouldbe solved with a salt and burn.Meet Freddie. He's having a bad day. And Susan is here to...well...end it.





	Last Chance

**Author's Note:**

> **Welcome to my first full story ever published online _ever_. ** (on Tumblr Jan. 2017)  
>  It is meant to be an Introduction to a new type of ‘hunter’ character in the SPN universe - one that will, eventually (hopefully), interact with Canon characters. She is drawn from ideas created by Seanan McGuire in [Sparrow Hill Road.](http://seananmcguire.com/shr.php)

“ _Stories are light. Light is precious in a world so dark._  
Begin at the beginning. Tell [me] a story. Make some light.”  
— Kate DiCamillo, The Tale of Despereaux

Southeast Tennessee  
Early summer, 2003

As usual, she began catching rides just after dawn, following the pull of the Road – this time south and west towards the Tennessee/Alabama border. She wore her hair blonde and short today, in a blunt cut just past the jawline. Given the accompanying snow white complexion, she decided that a low cut lacy tank with wedge sandals and tight faded jeans formed a believable compromise between suggestive and sun poisoning. She was thin, a natural result of abuse and self-neglect, but still attractive enough that travel was predictably swift. Her first ride, a refreshingly earnest elderly couple, helpfully provided a light scarf-like wrap, “…to protect your lovely shoulders from all those nasty UV-rays, dearie.” When she hit SR-64 around noon, however, traffic became scarce and she was forced to walk miles in the unrelenting rays of a clear blue summer sky.  As the scarf became glued to her skin, both the heels and the jeans were loudly and thoroughly cursed as phenomenally stupid decisions. Given all her years traveling the region, she certainly should have known better. Despite it all, of course, she still felt frigidly cold at her core. She was always cold – or almost always, anyway.

Twelve years ago, she had wished desperately for a better life. The night she ran away - the night that'd changed everything - she hadn’t just been running from the abuse, she’d also been running towards something. With nothing but her purse and the clothes on her back, she’d been heading for California - the pacific coast – as FAR away as she could get by stolen car. Unlike many, she didn’t have a specific goal in mind. She didn’t want to be a star; she didn’t want to be famous or rich. _I just wanted to see new things, go new places, do different work, and meet new…people._

When she realized where she was heading, however, she rolled her eyes and allowed herself a loud resigned sigh. _Oh hell, it’s Freddie. Again._ Well, Freddie _had_ been something new, she had to admit.

As her final ride dropped her off at the 97 junction, the Road’s level of anxiety filled her with dread. _Goddammit! I’m too late,_ she cursed inwardly. Freddie’d always been odd, but he had recently taken to lying in the middle of the road in broad daylight, causing havoc with lunchtime traffic patterns. When it was just an occasional car run off the road at midnight, she’d let him go with a stern talking to and a fierce glare. He’d disappear and sulk for a few months and then be at it again. They’d kept this up for a couple of years …but she’d seen that he was getting worse. His horizontal antics had slowly slid from juvenile trick to depression to malice. Now, according to the Road, Freddie’s weird aggressive passivity had caused a fatality. _Now_ , sadly, she’d have to do something more final.

As the ambulance passed by, red lights flashing and siren blaring, she slipped the scarf from her shoulders and slid off the pavement to search the late afternoon shadows. He turned out to be an easy find. Just standing by the edge of the cornfield, Freddie had his hands shoved deep in the pockets of his bell bottoms, with his face turned towards the ground. As she approached, his shoulders twitched defensively underneath his tattered Star Wars t-shirt. She knew he knew what was coming. She’d warned him, time and time again. _Man, I HATE this part of the job_ , she thought. He didn’t look up as she stopped beside him.

“Freddie, dude…” she said sadly.

“I don’t wanna go, Susan.” He still wouldn’t look at her. His tone was flat, his body posture tense. She recognized all the red flags for resistance. _Great, just great, and now on top of it, I have to fight a 14-year-old boy._   Around them swirled the lights and buzz and hum of the accident - police cars’ flashing lights, the EMTs rushing about, bystanders milling around making exclamations of horror, etc. Officers were busy directing traffic around the crash and, as always, rubberneckers were staring. Susan and Freddie ignored the chaos, focused only on each other.

She didn’t know a lot about Freddie’s background. She hadn’t been the one to meet him - to explain the options and help him through the transition. She’d only met him a couple of years ago when he’d started creating problems. She knew that he hadn’t grown up around here, that he had been a more urban boy transplanted to this rural life. She knew that he’d been gay - or questioning - before it happened and that he hadn’t been accepted here. And while she was certain this had something to do with his depression and self-destructive behaviors, she didn’t know his story. She didn’t know WHY he did what he did. She’d tried repeatedly to get him to sit down and tell her - to share his private anger and grief - but he always refused, making a joke, or just laughing… harshly. She didn’t have many failures on her record and it nearly broke her heart that Freddie would now be added to the list.

“Freddie, it’s time to go now. You have to say goodbye now. You know that.” She was careful to talk softly, trying one last time to convince him to take the easy way out.

“I don’t wanna _go_ , Susan.” Threatening this time, clearly holding back anger - likely years upon years of carefully hoarded anger. “I didn’t WANT this. I didn’t ASK for this. I just wanted to live my life but they wouldn’t LET me.” Finally, he turned towards her, his good eye startlingly blue in the mangled mess of his face. “I want them to PAY for this.”

 _And there it is, the final nail in the coffin (so to speak)._ There in his voice was that shift to vengeance - to lash out at those responsible. And at this point, he saw anyone living as responsible. Susan sighed, knowing, just knowing that this was going to be a bad day. A very bad day. _Thank the Powers that I’ve lost the sandals_ , she reflected. She took a tiny step forward, tentatively reaching for his hand.

“I can listen, Freddie. You know I can listen. I can listen and I can tell your story. I can make sure everyone knows what happened, so that, maybe, just maybe, it won’t happen again…for someone. Wouldn’t you like to try to SAVE someone?” She’d made this appeal to him every time. She was obligated to make it again, even though she had little hope of success.

“I SAID, I DON’T WANT TO GO!” Freddie exploded into action, lunging to grab at the collar of her jean jacket with both hands extended, his face further contorted by rage.

She had time to think, “ _Better at me than at them_ ,” and then her years of experience took over. The fight took longer than she expected, for what Freddie lacked in skill, he more than made up for in power. He’d had years to build up that power – especially since he’d used so little of it when playing his tricks on the road. She was careful to keep the fight away from the crowds - this kind of wild energy was highly likely to have negative effects on the human psyche. Particularly when they couldn’t see the cause.

“Stay DOWN, Freddie, give it up. You’re DONE.” Finally pinned, Freddie struggled in her hold as Susan began to say the words. She detested these words, the ones that summoned the Dark Takers. The ones who came to collect twisted and involuntary souls always leered at her, making her skin try to crawl off of her body. And they stank. They stank of decay and agony in horrid places and grim defeat. She grit her teeth to hold back tears. She hated the very idea of this young boy with those horrors...but she had no choice. He’d made it clear that he wouldn’t stop and the Road was adamant that no more lives be lost.

“STOP! Stop Susan, please… _stop_.” His body had stilled as he cried out, his panicked tone quickly turning into a plea. While Freddie remained tense, he no longer fought her hold. Susan immediately halted her chant but held herself ready to continue at the first sign of another of his tricks. “Please…I just want…” Freddie’s voice choked off, as he attempted to grapple with expressing an avalanche of pent up emotions and desires.

“Hey, hey…” Susan said soothingly. “Take it easy. It’s a lot, I know. There’s no rush, we have all the time we want.” She carefully began to relax her hold and let a bit of a smile creep into her voice. “I’ve got nowhere else I need to be. How about you?” Thankfully, she felt his body slump and then begin to jerk with sobs. “It’s ok, kid. It’s ok to mourn the life you wanted, the life you could have lived.”

He told her then, in between sobs, about the girl and the teasing and the misunderstandings. All perfectly normal teen angst until they were found - with him dressed in her borrowed clothes. How it escalated so quickly to ugliness and threats from peers and adults alike. Each day an almost unbearable new torment until her parents took her away – his only ally. They caught him alone soon after - took him into the woods far from prying eyes and terrorized him for what seemed an eternity. Freddie was calmer by that point in telling his story, his voice stronger, the anger returning. “They were wrong. I was not a freak. I am _not_ a freak.”

“Of course not, Freddie.” Her voice was firm, and matter of fact. “You were discovering who you wanted to be – simply exploring the facets of your soul. Not a damn thing wrong with that.” She was holding him in her arms by then, both of them curled up by the side of the road, Freddie with his head buried in her t-shirt. The road was now silent around them, with only plastic fragments and skid marks remaining to mark the fatal event.

“Sadly, they were too limited to accept anything beyond their own expectations.” Her voice softened. “They were afraid of you Freddie. You scared them, _badly_ , and they…well, I can’t begin to explain or excuse their actions.” Susan sighed. _So many people, so many stories, so full of hurt and sadness._

“But you got away, didn’t you Freddie?” Susan prompted. “You ran until you found a road – this road.”

Freddie looked up, his good eye wide with surprise. “Yes, how did you know?" Prompted by the knowing chagrin on her face, he nodded. "I was hurt…bleeding…and I just wanted it to stop. I ran and ran, trying to hide in the corn, but it wasn’t tall enough, and they just…they just kept coming. It was getting dark and I couldn’t see well without my glasses, but when I found the road…” His face, full of hope, crumpled as the memories found him. Whimpering, he curled up tighter within her arms.

“You thought for sure you were saved. And then someone did come, but they didn’t see you, did they, Freddie? And then you…” _And then you died, Freddie. You died horribly, with your face smashed in and all your possibilities cut short._ “And then you ended up like this.” Susan patted his shoulder soothingly. “I know about you finding this road, Freddie, because, like you, I belong to the Road. It tells me where there are troubles and I try to help solve them.” _And you’ve been troubled for a long time, Freddie._ Twenty-four years is an eternity to be stuck at 14 years old, holding on to all that anger and pain.

“What happens now, Susan?” Freddie pulled himself out of her embrace and turned to look into her face. “Do I still have to go?” His expression was a painful mix of hope and fear. She hated the answer she had to give.

“You took a life, Freddie – an innocent life. That’s where they draw the line. You can’t stay here anymore.” At his panicked look, she softened her expression, reaching out to take his hand. “They say you have to redeem yourself, Freddie. You know that, don’t you?” At his rebellious expression, she gripped his hand more tightly. “It’s better if you go voluntarily, kid, trust me on this.” The threat of the Takers skulked again through her thoughts. “If you choose to go, they say it can be a point in your favor – a step towards your eventual release.”

“My release? How long will that take? And who are _they_ anyway?” Freddie’s voice was dangerously edged with both sarcasm and despair.

Susan struggled to find the right tone - the right words to convince him – and then gave up trying. “I don’t know, Freddie, sometimes I think the Road doesn’t tell me _shit_.” She sighed and found herself wondering, once again, why they had picked her for the job. _Because someone has to do it or the world would be chaos._ She knew the answer – sort of – but that wouldn’t be much help to Freddie.

Susan turned his hand over and watched her own fingers trace idle circles in his palm. “I guess…in my job I’ve talked with a lot of folks, Freddie. And from that, I know a lot of it is about chances. Chances and what you chose to do with them. And all that pain and anger you’re holding on to? It makes you powerful, but it doesn’t help much in thinking about your options.” She tipped his chin up, forcing him to look her in the eye. “You gotta let it go, hon, you just _gotta_.” Susan let go of his chin and brushed a bloodied lock of his hair from his forehead. Her voice softened even further, as she slid her hand down to lightly cup his shattered jaw. “I’ll tell your story – you know I will, I promise you that. I’ll write it and put it out there on the net where god and everyone can see it.” She could see it in his face, he wasn’t convinced. Like so many of his age, the reality of the internet was a thing beyond conception. He needed something more concrete – more _real_. “I’ll _tell_ them, Freddie, I’ll tell all the others I meet. You won’t be forgotten, I _promise_.”

She had him then, she could feel it through his skin. It wasn’t easy, though. It took time to convince him to say the words – time and lots and lots of talking. _If it was easy, Susie-Q,_ she reminded herself, _they wouldn’t call it work._ By the time the night was spent, Freddie was still resentful, but however grudgingly, he agreed to go. The empty road was full of morning mist by the time she passed Freddie over to the solemn and solitary guide in the thinning shadows. She felt herself relax for the first time since sunset. She had not been too late; there _had_ been one last chance. She waved a silent farewell as his image faded away, to wherever it was _they_ sent him, for however long _they_  decided it took.

She’d wanted a better life. What they’d given her was a different…existence. And that had provided new things, new places…certainly _different_ work, and new…stories.

So, not so bad a day at that. _Not exactly a win, really. I’ll call this one a draw, I guess._

She eyed the sky, estimating the coming dawn. _Sensible shoes this time, dammit,_ she thought. As always, she was cold - all the way through to her bones. _Time to find a willing rube and a ride_ , she thought. _And hopefully, a good meal at a high end truck stop with terminals and a free connection to the net._

She had a new story to share.

**Author's Note:**

> I have a bunch of these stories outlined, with other ‘hunters’ of this type in the works as well. I would WELCOME anyone interested in writing fic in this AU, co-writing with me or beta reading future stories. Contact me [@durenjtmusings](https://durenjtmusings.tumblr.com)
> 
> *If you liked this, I recommend the following free online Seanan McGuire stories that helped inspire me:
> 
>   * [Good Girls Go to Heaven](http://www.edgeofpropinquity.net/library.asp?id=270)
>   * [The Ghosts of Bourbon Street (pdf)  
>  ](http://www.seananmcguire.com/galleries/page_images/The%20Ghosts%20of%20Bourbon%20Street%20-%20Seanan%20McGuire.pdf)
>   * [Bury Me in Satin](http://www.seananmcguire.com/galleries/fieldguide/Bury%20Me%20in%20Satin%20-%20Seanan%20McGuire.pdf)
> 

> 
> **And, of course - you could always BUY[Sparrow Hill Road](http://seananmcguire.com/shr.php)**  
>   
> 
> _Image Sources:_
> 
>   * Girl on Road image: <http://s3.favim.com/orig/46/alone-countryside-girl-road-sun-Favim.com-423773.jpg>
>   * Opening Road image: [https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3713/11698693665_ef58987edb_o.jpg ](https://farm4.staticflickr.com/3713/11698693665_ef58987edb_o.jpg)
> 



End file.
